Necrophilic
by Vampire Ifurita
Summary: The necrophilous person can relate to an object only if he possesses it. He loves control, and in the act of controlling he kills life.
1. Prelude

If: Well I'm back in the saddle again. I'm trying my hand at a story I've been thinking about for a while in hopes that it will help bring back some creativity to my life. This is inspired by two things: a song by the Dresden Dolls call "The mouse and the model" and a quote from a book which is written below. I should start off by saying that this story will be a dark one, it is my specialty after all. There might be a GaaSasu pairing happening later, but I'm not sure as of yet. Anyway, I'm hoping this might find its own audience somewhere on the net.

**Necrophilic**

* * *

While life is characterized by growth in a structured, functional manner, the necrophilous person loves all that does not grow, all that is mechanical. The necrophilous person is driven by the desire to transform the organic into the inorganic, to approach life mechanically, as if all living persons were things… Memory, rather than experience; having, rather than being, is what counts. The necrophilous person can relate to an object – a flower or a person - only if he possesses it; hence a threat to his possession is a threat to himself; if he loses possession he loses contact with the world…. He loves control, and in the act of controlling he kills life.

* * *

Getting out of jail was like stepping out of the ocean. When you first enter the water it's cold and scary and you can't see the bottom if you swim far enough out, but after a while you grow accustomed to the temperature and the danger that lurks below the surface. In time you have grown used to the ocean and when you are dragged from it like a fish from the sea you flounder upon the shore, gasping for breath. That's what it was like to step out from behind those brick walls, to venture passed the electrified fence and step onto the road again. Sure he wasn't free, but he wasn't a prisoner anymore.

The wind picked up, sending dust flying over the barren road. Green eyes surveyed the wasteland before him. Here in the desert there wasn't much to look at. There was sand and dust, there were several kinds of cacti, and off in the distance he could almost make out a mountain range. There were few clouds in the blindingly bright sky, from which the sun shone down with a power unrivaled, heating the earth and scalding those who came to close.

Lifting a hand up to his face he shielded his eyes from the light as he looked down the road. It wasn't like he was expecting someone to come for him, especially after all this time, but he had hoped to see some vestment of life. The clothes he was wearing were tattered and torn; he had been in the box for so long that he had outgrown what he had entered the system in. Faded jeans, a black button down shirt, and a small bag were his only vestments. His feet were bare and were paying for it on the hot pavement.

A roar of life flared from his left. He watched passively as a yellow taxi cab pulled up in front of the prison. The cab came to a stop in front of him. Turning his head to the prison he looked at the guard stationed at the fence. The guard shook his head.

"They must have sent a cab for you, knowing that no one would be here to pick you up. I hope for your sake that its already paid for, seeing as you just got out and it would be a shame to just shove you back in here for not paying the driver," was all the guard said before a loud buzzing sound cut through the silence of the desert. The fence parted just slightly, just enough room for the guard to pass through. The guard lifted his hat to the red headed man before he turned his back to him and passed through the fence, back to the inmates beyond.

The taxi driver had long ago stepped out of his cab and was standing and waiting for the red head to get into his car. Ducking his head, the red head pulled open the back seat door and climbed inside. Placing his bag on the seat next to him he pulled his seat belt on and settled in. The driver piled his bulk into the driver's seat and looked at his passenger through the rear-view mirror. He took note of the dark bags under the eyes, the chapped lips, and the blazing red tattoo on the man's forehead.

"Where to?" he asked, turning down the a/c to hear the man's response.

"Phoenix."

* * *

In all his life, Sasuke had never had to really work for anything. Since he had never had to work for anything, he had never cared about anything, and thus he had never really changed in seventeen years of life. At the tender age of six he had witnessed his parents murdered by his brother. From then on it was a downward spiral of hate, mistrust and apathy that had brought him to where he was now. He was a world famous model, and one of the most desired men that had ever graced a magazine cover.

Education, etiquette, and emotions had nothing to do with how he had gotten to where he was. He hadn't needed education. Sure he had gone through the motions of going through school until he graduated high school, but it hadn't mattered to him. He had aced all of his classes, and all of his AP tests, but none of the information had ever stuck with him, he hadn't needed it to. Sasuke didn't bother with trying to make people like him. People liked him because he was beautiful, so Sasuke found it superfluous to try and be nice or talk with other people. No matter what he did, or what he said people would still fawn over him like the Messiah. Emotion was an obstacle. If he cared about something it would only serve to draw him into the world, and he didn't want to be part of the world.

Sasuke was gorgeous. He knew it, and the whole world knew it. Big black eyes, black hair and skin so pale snow was jealous were only the first things that one couldn't help but notice. Plump red lips accented his face, along with a petite nose. He had a swan-like neck and would exploit the fact at any given chance. He was lithe, not at all muscular, maybe even a little feminine, but what did it matter if people were attracted to him? His legs would make any super model jealous, and his feet were perfect in every way. Sasuke was perfect in form, but not in any other way.

There were no rules in Sasuke's world, and he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to. He could have any person, anything, and even any place for his own. He took advantage of this daily. He had a different person in his bed every night, a different drug coursing through his veins every week, and was in a new place at every chance he could get. Cost didn't matter, diseases didn't matter, heck even the law didn't matter. Sasuke was above the law, above everything. Upon his pedestal Sasuke was untouchable. He had always been, and he would always be unchanged.


	2. Cocaine

If: Welcome to chapter two! I'm not entirely sure where this is going, but its an interesting piece to write, that's for sure. Especially since I've taken such a clinical approach to it. You will also notice the rating has gone up, its simply because of the drugs at this point. I'd like to thank any readers, and all reviewers!

HanChan: its nice to hear from someone who has read some of my other work! This certainly will be an interesting story, or so I hope. And who knows how they will react when they see each other?

Serenity Requiem: Thank you for the review! I hope that I will be able to keep your interest!

**Necrophilic**

**Warnings: **reference to drug/alcohol abuse

* * *

Phoenix wasn't what he had expected. Then again, he had been on the inside for so long he wasn't quite sure what to expect when he got out. There were people and there was shopping, there were a lot of palm trees, and it was quite warm, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. Somehow he had expected the world to change while he was out in the desert. It was awfully anti-climactic that it all had remained the same.

Stepping out of the cab, the red headed ex-convict grabbed his bag, shut the door and watched the cab drive away down the street. Turning his head to look around, he saw a rather swanky hotel to his right and a not so swanky looking motel to his left. The red head headed for the motel on his left.

Stepping into the air conditioned lobby was like a breath of stale air. There was an arid quality that hadn't been present in the hot outside. It almost reminded him of the jail he had just left in many ways. There was beaten up furniture against the far wall, and a cracked and beaten desk in front of him. A corkboard held all the keys to the various rooms behind the desk and the red head couldn't help but think how easy it would be to just steal one rather than pay for the no doubt crappy room. Alas he knew that he shouldn't, and he wouldn't steal a key from its prominent place. He was starting a new, better chapter in life and he wasn't going to fuck it up the day he got out of the clinker. Shuffling over to the dirty, ratty desk he rang the bell sitting on the counter and instantly wished he had some hand disinfectant. Someone yelled from the back room, and the red head craned his head to the side trying to see through the open door frame what was going on in the other room. After a few moments filled with swears and curses, a tall bulky man with a scared face stepped through the door and behind the desk.

"What do you want?" he asked tersely. The red head blinked at him, though it looked like he may have twitched slightly.

"A room… what else could I possibly want?" the red head answered shortly. The man snorted.

"You wouldn't believe what some people come here for…" he muttered. "Its thirty dollars a night, paid up front every day if you plan on staying longer than one day."

The red head winced. Sighing he reached into his bag and pulled out the fifty dollars he had gotten when he left the joint. Handing it to the man he grimaced as he watched him open a lock box and pull out his change. Turning, the man grabbed a key and set both the key and his change on the desk.

"Sign your name in the book and you can scram," the man said as he turned to leave. As the man left the room, the red head once again sighed before picking up the grimy pen and signed his name before grabbing his change and key and heading to his room.

* * *

Sasuke sighed in relief as he entered his swanky top floor suite. He had had a trying day. Photographers, women, and his buzz from his hit of coke had left him wanting to keep going, it had perhaps not been the best choice of drug to take when all he had wanted was to just not deal with anything. After all, it was hard work being a world famous super model. He had to do photo shoots, and deal with stupid people, do some drugs just to get by and sleep with as many people as he could get his hands on. It really was a hard life.

Dropping everything he had just inside the door, he turned to make sure that the door had closed before wandering further in the room. Shuffling his feet across a marble floor, he hit carpet and immediately tripped. Catching himself before he could fall to the ground, Sasuke laughed and did a not so graceful turn. Wiping a hand across his face he tilted his head back and could only watch as the ceiling started to spin. It wasn't until he had tilted his head back to its normal setting that he noticed he was still spinning around. Maybe it was time to stop doing the coke… again.

"Fuck," was all he muttered before he collapsed to the floor, head still spinning and causing him to feel a bit sick. Due to the fact that he had used, and abused this drug before, he was starting to feel the effect wear off, but was still high as a kite. He felt like he could do anything, to just keep moving, keep going… if he could just get to his feet. Perhaps chasing the coke with alcohol had been a bad idea.

Struggling to get to his feet Sasuke finally got his footing by using the coffee table in front of him for leverage. Luckily for him, he didn't have to do anything else today, or for a month for that matter. Taking a vacation after several long years of work had seemed like a good idea when he had told his manager he was taking the month off that morning. Laughing out loud at the absurdness of it all, he stumbled to his open kitchen. Mayhap picking Phoenix to crash in for his "time off" wasn't a good idea, since it was a glorified ghetto, but who cares? The coke running its way through his system was telling him to do something, and he was getting a bit jittery since he wasn't doing anything at the moment, but the second the world stopped rocking he would get right on doing something.

Opening the fridge, Sasuke pulled out a bottle and examined it, bringing it close to his face to read the label. More alcohol. Thinking clearly for the first time that day, Sasuke put the bottle back in the fridge and reached for another. Another bottle of alcohol. Trying for the third time, Sasuke decided that if he was going to pull out another bottle of booze that he'd drink it, side effects be dammed. Luckily, or unluckily, he finally grabbed a bottle of carbonated water. Shrugging, he closed the door and took his newly found drink with him to the living area. He already had his Wii hooked up. Placing the bottle of water precariously on a glass coffee table, Sasuke hooked up his DDR mat.

"Finally," he groused as the Wii finally turned on and he could load his game. At least now he could do something productive. With his mind wired and oddly focused from the cocaine, he focused fully on his game.

* * *

Getting a job had always been part of the plan. The red head knew that once out of prison you were expected to do three things: visit your parole officer, get a job, and not relapse. He was hoping that maybe, if the cosmos was kind, that he would be able to accomplish all three. Looking around Phoenix, it seemed like getting a job might be harder than he had thought, but at the same time easier. It seemed that it wouldn't matter that he had just gotten out of the joint, but just finding a job might be hard, and he'd something that would get him ten bucks by the next day.

Something from the corner of his eye caught his attention and he could only stare for a minute. There was a little diner of sorts close by to where he was currently staying that was hiring. Shrugging and thinking "what the hell," he went over to the place.

It was a simple matter of talking to the manager, and a few of the other employees currently on duty while filling out his application before he was immediately hired. Apparently they were strapped for help and any help was better than none. He was handed a work schedule and told that the sooner he could start, the better.

"I could start in an hour if you really need the help," he offered generously. The manager nodded furiously, her pink hair bouncing around her face from falling out of her bun.

"That would be so awesome of you!" she exclaimed. "You just need a pair of khakis and you'll be set!"

"I'll get right on it," he replied in his quiet low voice. The girl smiled in relief.

"Thank you so much! We really appreciate it! The last girl just up and left us hanging in the wind. It was a horrible predicament and now you come here and are so accommodating! I hope you've done this before, otherwise we might have a problem!" she said with a laugh.

"Come on lady! I'm waiting to order over here!" one of the customers shouted from the dining area. The manager's face faltered for a moment.

"I'll be right there!" she gave a final bright smile to the red head. "By the way, I'm Sakura."

The red head looked at her outstretched hand for a moment before reaching out to shake it. "Gaara."


End file.
